My Star-Crossed Knight
by Faxisthegreatest123
Summary: Princess Maxine is content. She has everything that she could ever want. But everyday Max has nothing but a secret: this perfect princess has fallen for a knight. To make matters worse, Max has come of age and must choose a prince to be her future husband. Five-shot. Rated T for minor inappropriate language, especially in the last chapter. AU and AH.
1. The Princess

**Hey! I'm back! Crazy, right? **

**So, three things. 1, I just finished reading The Selection by Kiera Cass, which inspired this tale of star-crossed princesses and knights. 2, This story was **_**supposed**_** to be a one-shot, but there's so much to say that I couldn't possibly cram it into one piece. I'm thinking a three-shot now, but even that is up in the air. **

**And finally, 3, My disclaimer. I do not own Maximum Ride. I do not own any of the characters mentioned. Sorry guys.**

**Please, by all means, read on! **

The clock on my bedside table read 7:00, but there was no sound aside from my gentle breathing. 5 minutes passed, then 10. I wasn't worried enough to rise from bed, but the feeling sat on my chest, constricting my lungs until my breath quickened into gasps. By the time 7:30 came, I was exhausted and debating sleep. My eyes began to droop, though my heart still hammered away.

The line between reality and sleep was becoming blurred, so I didn't exactly register the first knock. The second and third knocks came as well, each quieter than the last, but in this space between worlds I could not be bothered. My eyes drifted shut. My breaths became fluid again. There was a second where everything was black with sleep, just before I heard my door crash open.

My body was slammed into high alert, going rigid as my muscles tensed. _Erasers?_ _An attack on the palace? _I wondered. And then, _that would make sense._

The mattress depressed as someone approached, placing their weight on the opposite side of my bed. Why was I faced the other way? Wasn't that seriously unsafe?

The offender leaned into me, just as I assumed they would. I was ready for it. My right hand unfroze and my fingers curled into a sizable fist. As soon as their breath was on my neck I turned and swung. My knuckles connected with solid flesh and muscle, leading an ache up my arm.

A chuckle followed. It was a chuckle that I had grown accustomed to over the past few years, one that could simultaneously fill me with anger and elation, as it did now.

"What the hell?" I asked. My voice stayed at a whisper, even though all I wanted to do was yell. I also kind of wanted to cradle my now-bruised hand, but that wasn't an option either. My pride was too great to allow it.

"I'm sorry," Fang breathed. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture, but the smirk he was hiding told a different story. "I overslept."

I let my eyebrows raise, let my look read incredulous. "That… that doesn't make sense. You never sleep. You don't even know what sleep is!"

He laughed a little and got up to close my door, skipping a reply. Typical Fang. Words were not his strong suit, not at all. Fighting, now that was a different story. He was one of the youngest knights, yet he was the highest ranked. It was no wonder I fell for him, what with his strength and agility, added on to his devilishly good looks. His hair was the color of midnight and fell just over his eyes. I knew he would grow his hair out longer if possible, but the job required regular haircuts.

Shit. I was fangirling; I did not fangirl. I was dignified and strong and could fight my way through any situation. I didn't get to be this side of myself too often though. To most people I was Princess Maxine Batchelder, the kind of girl that I hated. Prim and proper and perfect, smiling through everything. Yes, Maxine would be the fan girl type.

A sigh escaped me. Fang, true to form, did not ask. He simply pulled me against him, even smiled as I placed my head against his chest, resting my ear right where I could hear his heart thrumming. He was nice enough to raise my puffy hand to his lips, silently asking for forgiveness for startling me.

It was easy to settle into him, to breathe in deep and smell only earth and power and, strangely, a hint of cinnamon. I closed my eyes, willing myself into that peaceful half-sleep again. When I opened them, his deep brown ones were staring at me intently. The emotion behind them was jarring. There were caramel flecks in there, too, which just served to distract me.

"Were you worried?" I finally asked. "Was that why you overslept?"

He nodded once, burying his face in my hair. I vaguely wondered what it smelled like.

All he offered was, "You pick today."

My throat closed up for a second, tightened with physical pain at his words. Half a year ago, I came of age. As soon as my birthday passed, princes from all over the world came for visits, each trying to woo me. My dad urged me to choose each time, telling me how important these connections were, in their own rights. I bought myself time by being difficult, choosey, but now I had run out of options. My parents were throwing a party tonight, and at the end I would announce which prince I wanted to marry. The whole thing made me want to gag, but even worse, my heart was here, in this room with the knight that my parents would never approve of. Anyone of lower class was considered-

Fang's hands travelled up and down my arms, efficiently stopping my train of thought. He grinned down at me, less a smile than a lilt to the corner of his lip. The expression came nowhere near his eyes, but he was making an effort.

Tears welled up deep within me, but I refused to let them fall. I was Max. I was indestructible.

I lifted my head a little, tilting my chin so that my mouth was mere breaths from Fang's. The intention was to kiss my fears away, yet words bubbled up before I could bridge the gap between us.

"How did we end up like this?"

My mouth clamped shut immediately, and my hand flew to cover it, just for good measure. Nothing like that would escape my lips again. It was a dangerous question, one that I never realized I wanted an answer to.

Fang took it in stride. A deep rumble shook his ribcage, and it was a second before I realized that he was laughing, quietly as he could. "Max," he said, amusement clear in his voice, "You looked my way."

"What?" I forgot myself; the word had come out as a screech. I quickly lowered my voice, but the inflection did not change. "Are you saying I started this? By… by _looking at you_?"

Now he could not keep the smile from his eyes. "You didn't just look. You basically undressed me with your eyes."

I began to shake my head, which prompted him to badly recreate the scenario. He looked down at me through his lashes, blinked excessively, and gave a husky, supposedly seductive breath. The whole thing was hilarious, so much so that I fell backward onto my bed, clutching my stomach as giggles and laughs erupted.

"That's…" laughter squeezed its way between my words, "That's not even… how it… happened…"

He was joining in now too, laughing so hard that tears streaked down his cheeks. I realized in a rush that this was the most I had ever heard him laugh. The irony of it was not lost on me; in the end it was this fact that sobered me.

"I hate you," I tried, knowing that I just didn't have the heart to mean it.

"I love you too," he teased back. I felt my heart speed up, and the kisses he gave me did nothing to help. For once I let myself lean into it, going along with the happiness that bubbled in each touch of our lips.

We stayed locked in that embrace, content to keep the reality of the day off our minds just this once. A voice crept up the hallway and under the doorframe, but we were unconcerned. It was just my maid Nudge, the storyteller of us all. She had a habit of walking into rooms without warning, and thus she caught us wrapped up in each other's arms one morning. The look on her face would have been hysterical at the time, were we not so worried that she'd blurt our secret to anyone with ears. It took Fang and I a solid hour to calm her down. We made her swear not to tell another soul, though she turned right around and let the secret slip to Ella, my step-sister. Since then, she was good about our little secret. And, because she told Ella, my sister decided to chase after a knight that she, too, had wondered about. Last I knew she and Iggy were still going strong.

What made us both freeze was the second voice that accompanied Nudge. Regal and graceful, each word felt like a double edged sword. It was my step-mother, Valencia, coming to oversee my wardrobe for the big event.

Fang sprung up immediately, going rigid as he assumed the normal knight position; back straight, eyes forward, hands clasped behind his back. Knights were always to be hidden, to look as still as possible. It was a deceptive tactic, one which worked. People rarely took notice to the shining metal lined across our walls. They were décor to the shallow and the small brained. The thought always made me cringe.

There was a glaring problem- okay, more than one- that I could not address before Nudge burst into the room. She waved her arms animatedly, sweeping full circles and talking up a storm. She did not even glance my way, and did not see Fang standing stone still next to my bed.

Valencia was not so gracious. She crossed the threshold seconds later, her eyes sweeping as Nudge's arms had, finally settling her gaze onto me. Immediately after they found my face, she turned to Fang.

Surprise hung from her words. "Sir Nicholas. To what do we owe the honor?"

The lie was effortless. "I was alerted to screaming, my lady. It is my duty to investigate all such disturbances."

Her eyes travelled down, taking note of his rumpled appearance, from the hairs that stood in disarray to his improper clothing. Most noticeably he lacked a shirt, which was not my doing, thank you very much. As long as I had known him, he slept with black bottoms hanging off his hips, nothing else. The appearance was a far cry from the knighted look my step mother was used to. She could have sounded the alarm right then; she was surely smart enough to make the connection, to see the holes in his story.

"Must have been some dream," she said. Her tone was guarded. "Especially if you managed to wake a knight, Maxine. These walls a thick, the floors even worse. To awake someone a floor below… and the fact that only one person came running?"

Fang was unfazed. "I sleep lightly, my lady."

She looked ready to say more, but Nudge swooped in, taking the opportunity. Her voice drew my step-mom's eyes away and over to the wardrobe, where a sparkling gown hung.

I risked a glance at Fang, poking my tongue out at him. Sir Nicholas, how posh the title made him sound.

"Princess Maxine," he replied coolly, knowing formalities irked me. He turned to my step-mother, nodded to her respectfully. "Queen Valencia. Miss Nudge. I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to."

And just like that, he slipped back through the door. The air felt chilly without his body heat radiating so near to me. I was filled with the same things every time he left; relief that we could no longer be caught, anger that I couldn't love him openly.

The 'L' word stuck in my brain, swirling round and round. The affection made me uncomfortable, but the truth was undeniable. I had lived with knights my whole life, but non like Fang. For three years we had committed to going behind the palace's back, stealing conversations and kisses when we could. Our actions were treasonous; they were desperate. They were the kinds of things that you did if you were in love.

I hopped out of bed suddenly, antsy to begin the day. I had nowhere else to run. There were no other stops to pull. I had bought myself six months, but could not afford a second more. Today I would choose my prince. My father, my step mother, no one would have it any other way.

So, I stepped into the ball gown with a smile. I did not complain about the ridiculous weight of it, or the color (which was a soft pink and completely not my style). I did not comment on the heels that Nudge shoved onto my feet, which felt impossible to walk on. I did my part as gracefully and silently as possible. I was not Max the invincible today, the girl who loved even though she didn't particularly believe in it.

I was Princess Maxine from now on. The mask would become my identity, tried and true. It was the only way I could face those princes out there, knowing one of them would be my future husband. It was the only way that I could protect myself, my true self, from the heartbreak to come.

**End of 1**

**So, what'd you all think? Good? Bad? Awful? Tell me what you'd like to see happen! I have some ideas in mind myself, but who knows, a few suggestions could just make it into the next chapter(s)!**

**Oh, before I forget. I got a guest review a while ago, thanking me for writing. I'd like to say thank you to you, mystery reviewer, and to all of you who support my work. You're awesome! **

**Also in that review, the nameless person said they wished there was more Max Ride to enjoy. Well, guest, you obviously found fanfiction, which is a great way to enjoy more. But… there's also manga's on the books, in case anyone didn't know that. I personally own all 8 that have come out so far, and they're pretty great. But they're by no means substitution for the real books. Still worth checking out, if mangas/comics/graphic novels are your type of thing.**

**Even more exciting, though, is THE NINTH MAXIMUM RIDE THAT'S COMING OUT! I'm a little excited about this one, if you can't tell. Maximum Ride: Forever. It comes out in January. **

**There's more coming, my fellow Max Ride lovers! And that, that is a beautiful thing.**

**Anyhow, tell me what you think! Review, review, review!**

**Much love,**

**~Faxisthegreatest123~**


	2. The Princes

**I actually started this chapter a long time ago, but apparently never finished it. So, here's to two updates in a day! Whoo! You guys are great. Please, read on!**

Our ballroom had always been beautiful; vast and open, the space seemed endless. There were floor to ceiling windows off to one side, letting in natural light and offering a spectacular view of the garden. In the center was a dance floor, shining brightly under the multicolored lights. For today's event there were tables lined up in rows, skirting the edges of the dance center. Those set closest to the lights were randomly washed with color, turning the drab white into muted plumes of yellow or red or blue.

Hundreds of chairs encircled the tables, but judging the amount of food, my parents planned for more people than we could seat. Gigantic numbers swirled in my head. In front of this huge audience of onlookers that had yet to arrive, I would have to decide my fate. I would have to commit myself to a prince that I did not really know. It was too much to take in.

In a panic, I nearly fell over onto Ella. She snuck me a glance, concern drawing her eyebrows together. "Are you okay?"

Normally I would have said yes. I was strong and independent and did not need my sister's sympathy.

Instead I shook my head, letting the truth of Maxine's world wash over me. Independence was for the free. It was for those who could choose to marry and love who they wanted, who could go by whatever title they preferred. Don't get me wrong, I was still strong; maybe even stronger for deciding that my heartbreak was inevitable. But still I let my guard down. I let it roll off of me like a ton of bricks crashing to the ground. _Boom, boom, boom_, one by one. Demolished.

Ella took my arm, leading me from earshot of our parents. "I'm sorry they're making you choose." She licked her lips nervously, let her eyes rove around the room. "I was rooting for you and your knight."

I could not decide if she was being genuine. On the one hand, she was my sister, not by marriage and certainly not by blood, but rather by loyalty. I trusted and valued her decisions, and so far she had proved to feel the same about mine. Yet I hesitated to believe her. She, too, was running around behind our parent's backs. It was possible that she was waiting for Fang and I to work out as confirmation that she could have Iggy. As if with my happy ending, she could secure her own.

Were I heartless, I would tell her the reality of the situation. Princesses married princes. I always knew this day was unavoidable, and it was the same for Ella. As soon as she came of age, she would be forced to leave Iggy with her heart; she would be forced to give her soul to someone else. When my younger brother Ari came of age, he too would have to pick royalty. I only hoped that of the three of us, he would never know the pain of picking someone from the wrong class.

Maxine played her part. "This is for the best," I said, though the words made my throat burn.

Ella cocked her head. Her body seemed to shudder, and suddenly I could tell that she was close to tears. I was desperate to comfort her, to reach out to her. My chest heaved with the want to take back my words, to sugar coat the reality until it bended to fit her fantasy. Instead I turned and walked away, leaving her swallow the severity of the situation we were both in.

~.~.~.~.~

It was not long before guests began arriving. Princes filed in, their numbers too high to count. Other people of importance appeared, the same dukes and duchesses and wealthy that showed up to everything, invited or otherwise. Even a few family members made appearances, the sight of some that warmed my heart. I had always been particularly fond of my little cousins Angel and Zephyr, who were among the first to arrive.

Angel immediately ran to me, securing her skinny arms around my stomach. She was tall for her age, which seemed to be a recurring theme with us Batchelders. Zephyr (nicknamed Gasman for obvious reasons) was tall as well, a near mirror image of his sister. The two could very well be twins, and were often mistaken as such.

My brother was between their ages, yet he preferred not to speak to them. It was something that I would never understand; the blonde near-twins were just too adorable to pass up. Then again, Ari preferred solitude. He was only content chasing after our father, the man too busy to be anything but king.

Whatever made him happiest, I guess.

The phrase made me cringe, visibly enough that Angel looked up at me with big, beautiful blue eyes. Another Batchelder trait, which had apparently skipped over me.

"We're being watched," she whispered, startling me. That was definitely, in no considerable way, a good thing.

I scanned the room, feeling the hairs on my neck stand up. It was hard to spot the offender; harder still because everyone glanced my way from time to time. I was the guest of honor, after all. It made sense for people to be staring. But I couldn't shake the tone of Angel's voice.

My body was slowly sliding into alert mode as my brain wondered what the disturbance could be. The word _erasers_ popped up the most. That, too, would make sense. They were the rebel group that wanted my father's reign destroyed. What a perfect time for them to show up and raise hell.

Still no one jumped out at me, figuratively or literally, until, finally, I saw him. As a nervous habit, he was running his front teeth over his lower lip, exposing the sharp points of his incisors. His eyes were glued to me, the same liquid brown as usual, a color impossibly close to black.

Immediately I relaxed. I even ventured to smile down at Angel. "That's just Fang, sweetie. He's a friend of mine."

"Fang?" Gasman asked, suddenly interested in our conversation. "What kind of name is that?"

"A nickname, Gas," I laughed a little. It was the first time I had done so since entering the ballroom. "You should know all about that."

He grumbled a bit, unhappy at being teased. I couldn't resist; I reached out and tousled his hair. The annoyed look on his face increased tenfold, but there was a smile on his face, so he couldn't have been too upset. With one last look- a fake grimace, more or less- he disappeared into the crowd of people, probably headed for the buffet tables.

Angel moved to follow him, but stopped short. "He's more than a friend, " she said finally, tilting her head to Fang. Then as if nothing had happened, she skipped away in search of her brother.

I was a little awestruck. How could my six year old cousin observe more about me and Fang in two minutes than my parents had in three years?

I shook my head once quickly, ridding the thought. Ridding all thoughts of Fang, actually. I was supposed to be letting him go today, not obsessing over him. His eyes on me made it all too easy, though. I wanted nothing more than to stare back, to get lost in him. Maybe then we could forget this whole thing; maybe then we could go back to the beginning and start over. Yes, that would be easy enough. I would get to be 15 again, the same age as Ella is now. I would get to be young and naïve.

More than that- I would believe in happy endings then, but not believe fully in love. It's not like I had much to go by growing up. My parents detested each other. It was almost a relief when mom was caught sneaking around with a duke.

They divorced almost immediately, which I was actually kind of happy about. There would be no more arguing, at least. No more hatred lingering in the air. The only request I have is that my mother would have stayed. But instead she packed up her bags, leaving my father with a country to run and two kids to take care of. Worse was that Ari was so young then, not even out of his toddler years. I don't think he remembers much about our mother, though he looks just like her with his auburn hair and even build. He definitely didn't get my father's wiry features, like I did.

Dad and Valencia at least get along, and Ari and I got a sister from the deal. I thought I was happy then, with a castle full of content family members. But then Fang was hired into my life, and I realized just how ignorant I had been.

It seems the ignorance never stopped, though. If I had any brains, I wouldn't have gotten close to Fang. If I had any sense, I would have saved myself and upheld the deal we originally made.

Too little, too late.

The music began fading, and on stage was the man I called Total- he did all of our family's odd jobs with a smile (that would turn to a grimace once alcohol got involved).

As the final notes played, he raised a champagne glass to microphone and tapped the edge with a fork. All but one set of eyes turned to him. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Batchelder Palace. We are pleased to serve you all as Princess Maxine makes her final decision." Cheers erupted, briefly, before Total took over again. "As always, the Princess will have one last chance to get to know the princes before she chooses. Good luck to all of you potentials out there, and Princess Maxine," he turned serious now, "Choose wisely."

By the time I choked back my unexpected tears, Total was at my side. "May I present to you, Prince Samuel of the States."

A hand was thrust into mine as the music swelled. Total allowed us some room, but stayed nearby. My parents clearly had asked him to announce each man I danced with.

Prince Samuel was all right, for what it was worth. He had a pleasant smile and knew his way around the dance floor. His eyes and hair were a few shades too light for my liking, but not everyone could have features as dark as Fang's. Everything about him screamed honesty and innocence, but that would not win him my heart, either. Nothing would.

"It's an honor to dance with you, Princess," he offered after a few beats. When I did not reply, he added, "Everyone talks about how lovely you are, but I never really believed it. No one is _that _beautiful." There was a pause for effect, then, "You exceed all expectations."

I squeezed my eyes tight for a second. He was sweet, a little too sweet. Where was the bitter? If I chose him, would I have to supply it all? "What is my favorite color?"

He blinked at me, his smile turning crooked. "I'm sorry, did you ask..?" I nodded once, forcing him to recover. "Uh, pink," he guessed. "Like your dress. A color most lovely on you."

I shook my head now, biting back a laugh. "It's brown. But not like mud, or chocolate. A dark brown, so dark that it's almost black." The words conjure up a set of eyes, a tickle of hair as it brushes my skin. I close my eyes again, savoring the image. It's beautiful. It's forbidden.

We don't speak again until the song halts to an end. Our hands cannot separate fast enough, it seems. "Thank you for the dance," I call, as expected. "You are most lovely!" The addition is for my benefit.

Immediately Prince Samuel is replaced by Prince Omega. "Of, um, Germany," Total announces nervously.

As soon as he is gone, the Prince speaks. "I know what you are wondering; what kind of name is Omega?"

I can only manage a soft nod before he continues. "I am the end," he says with a smile. My veins turn to ice; our conversation only gets worse. "The ultimate. And from my calculations, Princess Max-ine, our children would be perfect specimens."

A waiter passed by then, prompting me to drop Omega's hands. I reached for two flutes of champagne, downing one and then the other, fraternity style.

His calculations did not include this; he said as much. "Heavy alcohol intake certainly challenges my formulas…"

Mercifully, the song ended shortly after that. I stuffed the champagne flutes in his hands, immediately reaching for another full glass. "Thank you for the dance, Prince Omega." The bubbles from my previous drinks climbed backwards at the thought. I would have to be completely insane to choose him…

On and on, Princes from every continent take my hands and try, yet again, to win me over. No one comes close to succeeding.

All the while, Fang's eyes remain on me. Every now and then, I sneak a glance his way and he smiles, exposing the sharp incisors that earned him his nickname. Every flash of teeth reminds me of our first meeting, our first kiss. It's painful to look, but more so to avoid him.

The last Prince of the evening is Prince Dylan, "Of Canada," Total sneers. Apparently I haven't been the only one downing champagne.

"It's funny," Prince Dylan begins, "Because he was so pleasant on stage."

There's no hesitance in my response. "It's the alcohol. Turns him bitter." For some reason, this statement causes a fit of giggles to erupt from me.

"And alcohol turns you… bubbly?" He guesses.

I consider this. I've never been drunk before. I've barely touched even champagne before tonight. But of course, I lost track of how many flutes at this point. Another laugh spills over. Yes, I decide. Alcohol turns me 'bubbly'.

"And what about you?" I ask, skipping over an actual reply. "What does alcohol do to you?"

He leans in close, bringing in a scent of vanilla and nutmeg. For a second I catch myself admiring his eyes, which are a rare turquoise. No, there're not as beautiful or deep as Fang's, but I don't mind looking into them. I get so caught up in them, in fact, that I have to ask him to repeat himself.

"Alcohol brings out my sarcastic side,"

Another laugh escapes me. Sarcasm is the perfect offset to bubbly, over-the-top drunkness. "We should get married!" I joke in a rush.

His smile, however, reminds me why he's here. Why I'm here.

Again, I can't untangle myself fast enough. "Sorry!" I call over my shoulder, "Potty break!"

I run from the ballroom and burst through the doors. There's no where I can go, though. There's no place to hide. I end up picking the wall furthest from everyone, the one closest to the bustling kitchen on the other side. Sobbing, I sink down to the ground.

Several minutes later, the soft clinking of metal alerts me to his presence. Without a word he slides down beside me, rests his head in my lap. I run my hands through his hair, a gesture which brings on a new wave of tears.

He stills one of my palms, brings it to his lips. "They're waiting for you." Each word seems forced, like it's the opposite of what he'd rather be saying. It _is_ the opposite. "You still have to choose, Max."

I look at him then, really look at him. The alcohol in my blood had subsided. My tears have mostly been shed. "Why can't I choose you?"

My words bring a look to him that I've never seen before. His impassive face falls, and left is a look of pure torture, pure pain. A single drop of water leaks down his cheek.

He sits up, wraps his arms around me as tightly as he can. "I wish you could," he says, suppressing a sob.

My heart hurts, to the point where I can't stand it. I tilt his chin down to me, look in his eyes. I'm about to tell him the words I've never said, not once. I'm about to let myself shatter, even though I know it's irreversible.

The glass in the other room beats me to it. There are screams as people are pelted with debris, as the intruders rush in. A tiny voice screeches above all the others, a sound that can only belong to little Angel. Without thinking, I rush forward as the attackers rush out.

_Erasers._

I'm frozen for only a second, but a second too long. The ugly, masked creature grabs me by the chin, hoists me in the air. There's a loud metal _thunk_ as something collides with him, but I don't see what it is. I don't see anything as my body is ricocheted into the wall, head first, and everything grows black.

**Confession time: Max was originally going to choose a guy, then the attack was going to start. But, hey, things change.**

** So, tell me what you think. Drop me a line. And while we're all reading my work… check out my other stuff, if you feel so compelled.**

** Regardless, thank you my dear readers! You're all too fantastic for words!**

** As always, read and write on!**

** ~Faxisthegreatest123~**


	3. The Knight

**Oh my goodness, guys. I'm back again! I won't bore you with a long Author's Note… instead, go right on reading. Enjoy the flashbacks! (In italics, of course).**

**A warning first, though. The first paragraph gets messy. Literally. Hopefully you guys have good stomachs… **

_The only sound is retching, as I push yet another round of vomit from my throat. The vile substance lingers in my nose; worse, it threatens to spill over from the container by my bed. Again. _

_ I am so sick with the flu that I can barely remain conscious. Everything hurts. It's a struggle to even open my mouth to speak, lest I get winded, or have to expel more than words. But I cannot lie in bed with this atrocity next to me. _

_ Desperate, I am about to call out for a maid again, but I don't get that far before a figure appears in my doorway. It takes far too much energy to even squint at the intruder; I give up without connecting a face to the body._

_ "Princess," they whisper. Now at least I can tell it's a man, probably about my age. He steps closer, bringing a soft clinking sound to tag-along. He's a knight, sure, but not one that I'm familiar with._

_ "Princess, are you all right?"_

_ I cannot risk words, so I let a small, pitiful sound be my answer. The noise seems to jog his memory. "Oh, yes, the flu." The conscious-part of me expects more, but the mysterious knight falls silent. _

_ In that same second, I lunge forward, toward the receptacle. I cannot bring myself to be so… gross, however. Not in front of a stranger. Not into a bin that will surely overflow once more is added._

_ "Oh, princess," he calls, diving low. He arrives at my side at just the right moment… or maybe just the wrong one, as bile spills out into his cupped hands. _

_ To be fair, he takes it like a champ. Without so much as a disgusted look or a cry of surprise, he stands and carefully plods into my adjoining bathroom to rid the stuff and wash his hands. He runs the water so hot that his skin turns red, and little wisps of steam appear in the air. For some reason, this small detail perplexes me._

_ As I sit amused, he comes back over to my side and ties up the plastic in the receptacle, tosses the contents down the nearby garbage-chute. Once everything is back in order, I expect him to leave, as my maids do. But of course he is no maid, and certainly no typical knight, either._

_ Instead he pulls out my desk chair, positions it equidistant from the door and myself, and sits. Simple as that. _

_ Say what you will about my Fang, but the gross little things like vomit and the flu do not scare him off. The boy is certainly resilient._

When I am not stuck in memories of Fang, I am in the present, listening and feeling for clues as to what is happening. As to why I cannot see or communicate. Or why everyone acts as if I'm not really there.

They talk, of course. Valencia brings news of the palace, and the preventative measures that they are installing. It's a slow process, she claims, but every bit is worth it. For the life of me, I cannot quite figure out what it is that we're preventing. There is a word, but it eludes me as much as eyesight.

Ella, always the gossip, talks non-stop about Sir Jeffery and Nudge, sometimes other butlers or maids or mutual friends of ours. Rarely will she bring up Fang; talk of him usually consists of his healing process. It, too, is slow-going. "The gaping hole in his cheek is finally starting to close," she said once. And another time, "I'm sure he'll be handsome again someday, once the scabbing peels away".

As much as I long for word of him, this is not exactly what I have in mind.

My father doesn't say much, though he visits daily. I've come to expect his presence in the morning, when the sunlight is just beginning to seep into the room, onto my skin and clothes. In these early hours, it's not uncommon to hear him quietly weep next to me, or to feel his tears stain my hand as he hovers at my side. At first, when I regained my hearing and my sense of touch, I was confused and disheartened by the state that he was in. I couldn't fathom why he was so broken. Not in the beginning, anyway.

_That night with Fang was not the end of my terrible flu, but rather just a small portion of it. For three more days, we met up like that: me, too sick to move, or even greet him properly, and him pulling up that desk chair, hunkering there for the night._

_ Some of me registered how strange, and almost _wrong _this situation was. As a new knight, his job was to be watching over all of us, not idly talking, napping, or sitting quietly with me. Plus, as far as first impressions go, this was about the worst._

_ But I was too tired to care. And, honestly, it was kind of nice to have someone there, even while I was at my lowest._

_ Those nights, when I wasn't dead to the world, or babbling nonsense, we actually had decent conversations. I learned his name- Sir Nicholas- and he learned that I hated mine._

_ "It's such a terrible sound," I whispered to him. It should have been a shriek, actually, but my illness would not allow such a shrill noise. "_Maxine. _Too many syllables, you know? Too girly, too. Why not something shorter, like… like Max? Why not Max?"_

_ "Max," he repeated. Let it roll of his tongue. Honestly, the sound of that nickname in his mouth gave me goosebumps. Naturally, I blamed them on being sick. "It suits you. Princess Max."_

_ I gave a short groan. "No, no, no 'princess'. Just Max. Of course, in public it has to be 'Princess' this and 'Princess' that. And I guess Maxine, too. But to you, please. Please. Call me Max."_

_ He nodded at me, tossed out the first of many grins that I received from him. "Max it is."_

_ I should have just let it drop there, but something- probably my fever- possessed me to continue. "Now if I could just find you a nickname…"_

After some time, I began receiving enough information to piece together what had happened. My last memory was of the ball, of dancing with Prince Dylan. He was so charming, and knew just how to calm my nerves… but of course liking him, even in the slightest, meant I would probably end up choosing him. So I ran. And I was just about to tell Fang…

And I remember a flash of Eraser. Cue the coma.

Obviously the Erasers- the rebels that have been against my family's rein for centuries- caught wind of my ceremony, and chose to attack us at our most unguarded. But what was their goal? Certainly not just to raise hell. And by some miracle, my parents and I were alive and, somewhat, well. Whenever Ella talked about it, she merely complained about cuts and bruises. "Nothing serious, thank God," she'd always admit, just before the waterworks began.

Dad cried a lot, too. I thought it was just because of my condition, since as far as they knew, I was completely unresponsive. But, as I started to connect the dots, I realized that Ari had been missing this entire time. Not once had he come to see me. Sure, maybe dad and Valencia thought it was too traumatizing for him to visit, but that theory flew out the window when Angel and Zephyr first came up. Surely Ari would want to see his older sister, who had helped raise him, before Valencia ever entered the picture.

Then one day I understood. Ari was not being kept from me. He was gone. Somehow, someway, Ari died that day at the ceremony. It's the only thing that could explain Ella's comments, dad's deteriorated state. The Erasers had finally gotten their wish; they didn't just raise hell; they sent my brother to the grave. It was one less Ride that they had to worry about.

It was one less person that I cared about.

_On the fourth day of being sick, Valencia and my maid's coaxed me to stand. I did so without wobbling, and was rewarded with a little bit of food, which, miraculously, I kept down. It was the signal of the end of my illness._

_ A scale was sent for, and once I stepped on it, I saw the severity of the last few days: I had shed 21 pounds as a result. _

_ Valencia let out a low whistle. "You're already so thin! It's a wonder you made it through!" She directed a finger at me, narrowed her eyes. "I should have _insisted_ that the doctor see you. Oh, Maxine!"_

_ "I'm all right, I promise."_

_ A knock on my open door made us all turn. Sir Nicholas materialized, his uniform grating a little as he walked. "Queen Valencia." He bowed, then turned to me. "Princess. It seems that you're well again."_

_ For whatever reason, his presence irritated me. "I'm feeling fine. You can rest assured that I'm well tonight. Be quick to continue your duties, sir, as this castle is much bigger than myself."_

_ Valencia gaped at me, though my remarks were not that terrible. It was true, after all._

_ Sir Nicholas took it in stride. "Bigger than much of you, perhaps," he said. His eyes never left mine- distracted, I noticed what a startlingly dark color they were. He continued. "Though unseen traits often take up the most room. Good-day, Queen Valencia. Princess."_

_ It was several hours before I realized what he had meant. And, no, I was not egotistical, thank you very much. Sir Nicholas was simply… a peasant. In a knight's uniform._

When the morning turned afternoon, dad would often dry up his tears. His voice would become serious, his entire demeanor changing.

"You know, Maxine," he'd whisper. His palm would tighten around mine. "I'm prepared to do anything, if only you wake up. You have my word. If you choose to wake up, I'll give you your heart's desires."

His declaration always grated on me. Did he really think I was _choosing_ to be like this? Unresponsive, uncommunicative, unseeing? If it was as easy as simply convincing myself to wake up, I would. Believe me, I tried. Tirelessly, I commanded my body to move. Shift. Do SOMETHING.

It was no use. I could not, all at once, decide to rejoin the world. So I worked at it.

_I avoided Sir Nicholas and his midnight eyes, midnight personality, as long as I could. But of course, we had to cross paths again eventually._

_ The time came a few months later, when my father and I were walking down the hall together, chatting about palace policy. As always, upon our passing, the knights lined across the wall stood at attention. Their faces betrayed nothing but respect._

_ Yet as we walked on, I felt a shift. A pair of eyes on me. Risking a glance back, I saw Sir Nicholas, a smile across his face. Mocking me, it seemed. _

_ At the end of the hall, I let dad walk ahead of me and down the stairs. Once I was sure he was out of sight and earshot, I stormed up to the ridiculous knight._

_ "How dare you!"_

_ He was entirely stunned. "Princess?"_

_ I had a snide comment, but quickly bit it back. The other knights, I noticed, were watching Sir Nicholas and I intently. If I was going to scold him, I had to do it in private._

_ "Follow me." _

_ Of course he did as I said. We wandered a little ways to the right, avoiding the stairs and the other knights at the opposite end. In a small, shadowed corner, I unleashed my distress at his actions._

_ "Are you unaware of proper protocol?" I asked finally. _

_ His voice turned sour. "Yes, I am."_

_ I couldn't resist it; my index finger jabbed him in the metal-plated chest. "Then you know that all knights are to stand at attention when royalty passes. No exceptions. And no _smiles _either. It is not proper conduct."_

_ "Smiling, Princess?"_

_ I couldn't tell what direction he planned to go in. So I assumed ignorance. "Yes, moron, a smile. The opposite of a frown? When the corners of your mouth turn upward? Usually connected to joy? Happiness? Are you familiar with the expression!?"_

_ He stood up taller. "You accuse me of smiling?"_

_ "Yes!" I gripped the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off a stupidity-induced headache. "That's the point!"_

_ "False."_

_ "What?"_

_ His face betrayed no emotion what-so-ever. It was eerie, honestly, how quickly any sort of expression left his face. "False. I did not- would not- smile at you. You offer nothing to smile about."_

_ The petty comment burned, but I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Instead I turned on my heel, whipped my hair into his face. "Good. And I intend to keep it that way."_

_ "As you wish." His voice shifted. It came out lighter, teasing. "Princess Maxine."_

_ I whirled around; caught him in a grin. "Well, it seems that someone can't be trusted." But the grin remained. And, looking back, it was so cute that I could hardly stand it. I wouldn't stand it. "Wipe that grin from your face. And put your stupid fang back in!"_

_ His eyebrows drew together. He was truly confused now. "My… fang?"_

_ "Yes, nimrod. The sharp incisor of yours? I can see it in your… your abominable smile." I had said all I had meant to. But, upon some witchcraft, I added, "It'd be wise to keep such things to yourself, lest I call you 'the fanged one'. Or, better, 'fang-boy'."_

_ He tried to keep his voice stony. I could tell the effort was excruciating. "Too many syllables, Princess. Not masculine enough."_

_ I turned from him, simply to hide the smile that was spreading across my own face. "Good-day, Sir Fang."_

There was no definite way for me to tell time, but it was a long while before I could command my body to work with me. Little by little, it yielded. One night, when no one was around, one of my toes wiggled. The next morning, during dad's crying session, my whole foot twitched. He missed it, of course, but it twitched none-the-less. The same day, as Valencia was leaving, my eye-lid lifted. The light was so blinding, however, that I had to close my eye again.

I heard Ella enter. Heard her sit next to me, take my hand in hers. And, feeling confident in myself, I commanded my hand to close, then release. Just a squeeze. Then she'd know I was awake. Then this nightmare would end.

But of course, my body refused. For several minutes, I concentrated so hard that I missed what she was saying. I was determined, though. She would not leave until I proved my consciousness.

Things got desperate when she went to get up. I was going to have to concede; admit defeat. But, as she went to leave, my hand went with hers.

At first Ella was panicked. She tried to drop my hand; she let go completely. But my palm was still wrapped around hers.

"Omg, omg," she cried, flailing about. "What, I don't, oh, God…" She went still. Seconds passed before, in a whisper, she said, "Max. If you can hear me…" she swallowed. "Please let go."

And I did.

My sister's shriek followed. In her excitement, she raced to me, put pressure on my ribs by accident. "Omg, Max! Max, are you awake!? Come on, Max, say something. Do something! I'm not crazy, Max. I'm not. Please, please do something! Open your eyes? Oh, please!"

She saw my eyelids flutter; another scream pierced the silence of the room. Doctors, nurses, even dad and Valencia came running in.

Ella was nearly in hysterics. "She's awake! She's awake, she's awake. Awakeawakeawakeawakeawake-"

Valencia stepped in, put her arm around her daughter's shoulder. "Sweetheart, calm down. I mean it." The seconds ticked by, one every eternity. "Okay. What happened, darling? Hmm?"

"I went to leave…" though she sounded calm, her words came out in gasps. "But she wouldn't let me. Her hand… she wouldn't let go. I asked her to… and she did. She let go. And then… her eyes… they fluttered." Ella drew in a breath. "She's awake, mom."

The silence was deafening. In it, I tried to command myself to move, do something, but like every other time, it was no use.

Dad crept over, his shoes squeaking as he approached. "Is it true, Maxine? Are you… are you awake? Can you hear me, sweetheart?"

Valencia's voice came from my opposite side. "Maxine. If you can hear your father and I… please." She swallowed. The sound echoed in my head. "Let us know, darling. Grip our hands. Anything."

Slowly, excruciatingly, my fingers found the strength to obey. They twitched a little, before lightly grasping on to the palms underneath them. Both of my parents cried out in excitement.

"Can you open your eyes now? Oh, please, Maxine. Open your eyes."

Like magic, one eyelid fluttered. And fluttered again. And then there was the blinding light, which I squinted against. The other eye followed in suit, though the pain of having them open was nearly unbearable.

Ella noticed my discomfort, even from across the room, and raced for the light-switch. Suddenly we were bathed in only the dying sunlight, but my, did that feel better.

Once adjusted to the semi-darkness, I, slow as could be, swiveled my head to best see my surroundings.

A spacious room, white walled and tiled, plain aside from the end-table near Valencia, the chair near my father, and the various machines that I was hooked up to. Doctors and nurses were crowded into the space, their breaths held as if it were too good to be true. Maybe it was.

Even in the filled room, I noticed the absence of two people nearest my heart. Without really thinking, I called out for one, nearly choking on his name. "Ari,"

The doctors and nurses were suddenly dispersing from the room; only one came back, a second later, with a large glass of water. Even though my throat burned from dis-use, I let the liquid sit untouched.

Valencia eventually answered me. "Your brother…" she looked to my dad for help, but he offered nothing but a stony expression. "He's not here, sweetheart. Not anymore."

To their surprise, I nodded. I had figured out as much. I could not trust my voice, though. Soon I would, just as they would soon tell me all that I had missed.

Speaking of missing… I stared straight at Ella, knowing she could help me. "Fang," I croaked.

She was about to say something, but a doctor rushed back in. He seemed flustered, in much contrast to the small smile that was playing against his lips. "It's exciting that the Princess is awake," he said, coming closer. "But we must not overwhelm her. Please, if you would all accompany me outside the room."

No one moved.

The doctor sighed, racked a hand through his hair. "I understand you want to remain here, but it's very important that the Princess have time to cope. You will all be able to come back in the morning, when she's ready to receive you again."

"The morning!?" Dad and Valencia cried. Ella, for her part, remained silent.

"Yes. Please. It's getting late, and tomorrow will be a very busy day for Maxine. As soon as she is ready, she can have all the visitors she wants." At my parent's protest, the doctor put up his hand. "Starting tomorrow morning, of course."

They all looked to me, as if I was in a state to contradict the doctor. I could only nod at them; even the small movement was slow and awkward.

"All the visitors you want," Valencia echoed, still reluctant to leave.

Dad chimed in immediately. "Anything you want. You still have my word."

Soon after, they joined Ella near the door, each casting a quick glance back. My sister, the last to leave, added a subtle wink before walking out. She had heard, and would honor my request to see Fang.

The next morning, doctors and nurses flooded back in. They peppered me with questions and medical terms, each seeking something specific. Two came over, and with a lot of sweet-talk, coaxed me to stand. My legs wobbled, but these men were capable enough. They held stead-fast to me, walking around the room with me at a terribly dreadful pace.

Once I was returned to my bed, and everything was cleared by the doctors, I consented for visitors to enter. As the medical professionals trickled out, a new wave of familiar faces rushed in. My entire family was here, it seemed.

There were tears and grins and laughs galore. It was like a huge coming-home party, which was accurate in more ways than one. Eventually, however, many of the people left. When it was just dad, Valencia, Ella and I, another new wave came crashing through.

These were mostly my friends and even some well-trusted service-members. Nudge was among them. She dissolved into tears the second she saw me, which was completely expected.

Some people were missing, of course. One, whom would forever be gone. Another who my sister had promised to bring by.

The sun dipped down again, signally that the festivities were coming to an end. Everyone was hesitant to go, even as the moon rose and night crept into the sky. My parents were the last to leave for the night; Ella had unceremoniously left earlier in the evening.

At last, I sank back against my bed, my heart hammering in my chest. I was glad to see every face today- honestly, I was glad to see anything at all- but the one that I had wanted to see most hadn't shown. His absence cut deep.

As I stared out the window, wondering what would be next, there was a knock on my door.

I sat up so fast that I nearly passed out; anxiety crept into my blood. Visiting hours were nearly over. There was no reason for someone to be at my door, as doctors and nurses simply wandered in.

The doorknob turned slowly, adding to my suspense. If it was an Eraser, I would be putty in their poisoned hands.

Light spilled in from the hall as the door swung open… revealing Ella. With her was Fang.

My heart thudded even harder in my chest; the heart monitor beeped insistently as a result.

Ella looked between Fang and I, a smile taking up her entire face. "I'll… I'll leave you two alone." Before she left, however, she turned and sung, "You're welcome, by the way."

I could not answer her. I could not move. Every muscle in me was frozen with this inexplicable joy at seeing Fang again. My Fang.

He approached cautiously, though his eyes burned with an indescribable need. When he was finally at my side, he threw his arms around me, careful not to harm me, but firm enough to reassure me that he was real. That I was real.

Suddenly I could not stop crying. It was a sob that started in my chest and then bubbled over; it was an ugly cry, one for all of the tears that I had yet been able to shed. Fang did not care. I knew he would not care.

My sobs subsided into hiccups, allowing Fang to pull away from me, if only slightly. He drank me in, and I gladly returned the favor.

Ella said he'd be handsome again one day… that one day was now. He looked the same; close-cut midnight blue hair, eyes to match. Strong arms and a strong heart, which I could feel beating in the air between us. The only difference was the scar on his left cheek.

The most raised portion was circular, just under his cheekbone. From there, a line ran downward, thinning as it curved to a stop at his lips. As a whole, it was an awful mark, puckered and red and truly terrifying. It would never fade, that much I knew.

Somehow it made him all the more beautiful.

I reached up to touch it, my fingers dancing around its edges. "The poison…" Erasers were notorious for dipping their deformed claws in vile substances. One good swipe could be fatal.

Fang's eyes locked onto mine. "Out of my system. But please. Let's not talk about me."

"Let's not talk at all," I countered, gently pulling his face to mine. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed. It went on for an eternity. It did not last long enough.

Feeling lightheaded, I had to come up for air. Fang knelt down next to my bed, ever the knight.

I had nothing to hold me back now. So I blurted out what I had wanted to say all along. "I love you, Fang. And I've missed you terribly. Terribly."

He looked near tears. "I love you too. These past few months… I've been in such agony, waiting for you. But I knew you'd come to." He lowered his head, kissed my hand. Moved up my arm, skipping the various tubes and needles, and eventually wound up at my mouth again. A breath away, he added, "You're much too stubborn to go out without a fight."

"I'm going to ignore that one…" I breathed, distracted by his close proximity. We closed the gap again, enjoying this time with each other, short as it felt.

Fang pulled back after a while. "So, what next?"

Since waking up, I had wondered the same thing. So much was different now. So much needed to be done. I still had to re-adjust to being human, let alone being Princess of a nation again. But, looking at Fang, I could see the big picture. Included was him in a tuxedo, me in a God-awful white dress, befitting of a princess…

I looked at him, remembering the words that dad had spoken over and over again. I had to thank my lucky stars that he was a man of his word.

Fang gave me a funny look. "What?"

"Next," I said, taking his hand in mine. This was right. I could feel it throughout my bones. "We make you a Prince."

**Color me tired. And a procrastinator. But… there you guys have it. 14 typed pages, over 4000 words (I tend to average 1000-2000)… and another chapter after this. **

**Yes. I'm extending this to a four-shot. Just because I love you guys so much. You're fantastic! **

**I can't promise when I'll write again, but I sure as heck won't forget about the ending. It'll be fun. Until then, read and write on, my fantastic readers!**

**~Faxisthegreatest123~**


	4. The Queen

**So, this was originally supposed to be a one-shot. Then I said three. Now, I'm up to at least a five-shot. More of a mini fic, honestly. There's just so much to say!**

**Regardless, I hope you guys enjoy! Shoot me a review when you're done. Let me know what you think!**

**Oh, right. Shout out to the person who compared the fic to My Fair Godmother by Janette Rallison. It's an awesome book. Amazing to be compared to it. Thank you!**

When I arrived home, dad called me directly into his office. I was hit by the same thing as always upon entering his personal space: how much it reminded me of him. Like if you could take his being and manufacture it into home décor, this would be it. The carpet was dark, the walls made of wood paneling, each piece stained a deep brown hue. The middle of the room held his desk, the color which matched the walls. A tall chair of green leather sat behind that, and even further were the back shelves. They were enormous, taking up the entire expanse of the wall. And there were books _everywhere_. Pieces from literature that I could only dream of reading spilled from the shelves, the bindings old and worn, every book showing just how often dad cracked it open.

Jeb Batchelder, the scholar turned King.

Valencia was sitting in the chair when dad and I came in. It was a shock- only dad could sit there. Years ago, father would have whooped us if we were caught trying to bend the rules, even one so minor.

Dad was perfectly at ease, sliding himself onto a corner of the desk instead. That, too, was surprising in its lack of formality. Try to hang off the furniture once and any of us kids would be sorry.

Seated in these strange places, my father and Valencia told me the news of the Martinez-Batchelder heir.

"We were planning to tell everyone at the choosing ceremony…" Father looked away, unable to finish his speech. If he and I were anything alike, memories of that terrible day were cropping up unannounced, stealing his breath away.

Valencia continued for him. "Our next thought was to tell everyone when you were feeling well enough. I was already showing a little when your condition worsened- we didn't want the people to begin speculating." She reached for my hand, her eyes searching mine with quiet intensity. "I hope you aren't mad, being the last to know."

I couldn't stop it- the tears were streaming down. The week had been more than emotional. Finding out about Ari's death, waking up, telling Fang that I loved him, coming home… It was a lot to process. Add in the bitter joy that I felt at hearing about the newest heir and there you had it. One big, ugly cry fest.

Dad and Valencia glanced at each other nervously. They were worried that I was mad; I could see the worry written all over their faces.

I was in no state to talk so I stood instead, nearly knocking the chair to the ground in my haste. Around the table I walked until I stood between my parents. My words were failing me still so I pulled my parents close, hoping to convey the level of joy and thanksgiving I had at our ever-expanding family.

~.~.~.~.~

The next day, I was the one riddled with worry. Dad was not a frightening man, but the level of power that he held could intimidate anyone. If I did not play my hand carefully, if I let him see any weakness at all, he could rip my dreams up by the roots, toss them aside without so much as an afterthought.

There was always the option of going behind his back, as I had been. But dating was one thing- a marriage would be much trickier to hide. I'd be tried as a traitor before the honeymoon, banished before even getting to enjoy married life. And Fang... he might not even get a trial. Father might just kill him outright for "crimes against the kingdom".

The possibilities went on and on, each more miserable than the last.

Still, I had to do this. I raised my fist, let one firm knock go before losing my nerve.

My back was turned to the door, adrenaline pumping, preparing to take me far, when Valencia called for me to come in.

I hesitated for only a second, but a second too long. From behind, her voice in the too-silent hallway made me cringe. "Maxine? Did you want to talk to your father?"

The only option was to face her. Even then, I couldn't look her in the eyes. "Yes ma'am."

"He's asleep right now, but I'm not busy. Come on in. We can talk." She extended her elbow, bumping me across the ribs. "Woman to woman. It'll be good."

My stomach was in knots, even as I nodded in agreement. Nothing "good" could come out of this.

She took her place in dad's chair again. It was still jarring to see her there, satin-dress clad, baby bump neatly outlined. I swear the child had grown since I was last in here.

Off to the side of the desk was a silver tray, small cups and saucers sitting upon it. As I got settled, Valencia pulled a cup from the stack, filled it to the brim with the provided coffee. She pushed the liquid in front of me without asking. She knew me well enough to get away with it- black coffee was a weakness of mine.

She then poured herself a cup, adding sugar and cream to the mix and stirring slowly. Biding her time. When the ingredients were dissolved, her drink colored more white than brown, she stopped fidgeting. She more or less abandoned everything, opting instead to stare at me deeply, looking straight through my soul.

"Something is going on. Am I correct in assuming that?"

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. To disguise my discomfort, I reached forward for my drink, hoping that in a moment I'd be able to find my voice.

She spared me the trouble. "Has your father ever told you how we met?"

The turn of conversation was so surprising that I could barely shake my head. I knew a lot of things about my father- his mother died when he was young. He dreamed only of being a scholar, but did not make it through college. He was pulled from his studies early due to his father's ailing health and, tragically, his sister Arielle's death. His younger sister April was there but not yet of age. When King Julius died, the kingdom was left to my father.

Valencia's voice broke through my thoughts. "Certainly he told you about marrying Anne." She caught her slip up- "Your mother, I mean."

Oh, yes. I could recite that story backwards by the time I was in school: Aunt Arielle went through a Choosing Ceremony, much like my own. There she hand-selected the Prince of Great Britain. Grandfather was more than pleased with her choice- we desperately needed a connection to the Prince's homeland. When the wedding was cancelled, any sort of good relations fell through.

Grandfather was desperate. On his deathbed, he struck deal with the opposing King. Then and there, he guaranteed the union between my father and Princess Anne of Great Britain.

Even the mention of my mother drew anger from within. She never once pretended to care that her son had died or that her daughter was on the very edge of life itself.

"What is this all about?"

If Valencia was shocked by my tone, she did not show it. "Maxine…" She leaned back against the chair, regarded me a little less intently than before. "I'm afraid you only know half the story. Your father and I, we met at university. That summer he planned to visit home, saying he'd be back shortly.

"Just before he left, he told me that he loved me. He all but proposed, assuring me that he'd ask his father for permission to be my groom." She got teary eyed, had to wave a hand near her eyes to stop them from leaking. "I had all that time to think about it. The Prince wanted to marry me, a commoner of all people! He was going to ask the King if we could wed! Oh, Maxine, that summer I dreamed about being our nation's Princess. It was the happiest time of my life, until news came of Princess Arielle's death.

"Your father sent word to me immediately. He apologized but said that he could not stop the engagement. The letter was his goodbye, asking, practically begging, that I move on. His exact request was that I 'find someone more worthy of love and affection than he'.

"It took a while, but life went on. I fell in love with a man and together we had Ella. I thought he was it for me. That was before a bullet tore through his heart." No amount of effort could stop her tears. She practically wept, the sound of hiccups melding into her words. "I grieved for many years. It hurt to even come home to Ella; the first thing she would ask was always 'Where's daddy?' She was too young to understand. She would ask no matter what I told her."

I could bear it no longer; I got up and went to Valencia, pulling the chair out far enough for me to sit on the arm, my body mushed up against hers, my hands gripping her shoulder. She accepted the make-shift hug without hesitation, trudged through her story without daring to back down. "I was constantly wondering what was next for us, how I would take care of a child by myself, how we would make ends meet. We struggled for a very long time, Ella and I.

"Then a knock came on my door and there was your father, standing on the porch of a poor, widowed woman. He was quite the sight in his crown and cape, but underneath it all I could still see the Jeb I had once known.

"He said 'I don't know what you've been through. I don't know what your life has been like since we last met, but I know this: I need you back in my life'. I don't know that I've ever agreed to something faster."

Now that her story was done, her tears began to slow. As gracefully as she could, she removed her white gloves, rubbed a finger under her eyes to wipe away the water.

I put my head against her temple, trying to come up with the right words to say in response. "I remember dad coming home happier than I had ever seen him. I went to ask him what was going on, but no one would let me past. Some official stopped and said that dad had chosen a Queen from a pool of potential ladies'."

Valencia laughed. "That was the unofficial story. We never did set the record straight." She took a second to look up at me, her caramel brown eyes shrouded by thick lashes. "Do you know why I told you all of this?"

"Not a clue."

"When I look at you, Max, I see your father's features." She shifted, reaching her hands up to frame my face. "Tall and thin, blonde hair for days, it's all his. And even though your eyes are Anne's, they give the same looks as your father. I can tell when he's distracted or hurting or angry with a simple glance, and I see those things in you, too."

A wave a panic hit my stomach, anticipating her next words. Sure enough she trudged on, getting to the real heart of the matter. "Your father's eyes light up when I walk into a room. It's one of the many things I love about him." She dropped her hands to my shoulders, smoothed the wrinkles out of my clothing. "Your eyes do the same thing when a certain knight walks in."

"So you know then." Just saying the sentence out loud was terrifying.

There was a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I've known _something _for a very long time, but I wasn't sure who had captured your affection. Any fool could have seen it was Sir Nicholas when he threw himself over you like that. Nearly got himself killed in the process. Technically he did, what with his heart stopping and all."

I got up, began backing away slowly. Her words felt dangerous, one false move and we'd both go up in flames. "He _technically _died?"

"Maxine," she began to stand, come toward me. "Maxine, you have to calm down."

"_Technically_?" It came out as a shriek. There was nowhere else to go- shelves dug into my back, books flying from all over as I collided with the wood.

Valencia continued to approach, began to gently usher me into her arms. Enveloped by her, I let myself be vulnerable. I let myself cry.

"He fought off several Erasers and eventually threw himself overtop of you, protecting your body from anything that could be considered a threat." She moved, planting a soft kiss at the part in my hair. Reassuring me that things were okay. "You've seen some of the damage but there's more beneath the armor, where they had to strain to reach. He was weak but still alive when we got to you." I could feel her arms wrapping around me tighter, pulling me in where it was safe. "His heart stopped as you were being lifted by a team of volunteers. Lucky for all of us, a trained nurse was nearby. He restored Sir Nicholas' heartbeat."

Almost before she could finish, I was gushing out with fevering intensity. "I love him!" Quieter, where sobs could drown out the words, I said, "I almost lost him."

Valencia pulled back, just a little. "You want to ask your father for his blessing."

"Yes." And because I was in the business of being vulnerable, I continued. "I'm afraid for the awful things dad will say."

This actually earned me a laugh. "He won't deny you, sweetheart. Look at all the good: Your father loves you. He's been where you are, being forced to marry out of convenience instead of love. And Sir Nicholas certainly loves you. He laid down his life for you!" She brushed a few stray hairs from my face. "Plus, your father has promised you your heart's desires. I don't think he can go back on that now."

"He hates the knights," I protested.

It took Valencia all of two seconds to shoot me down. "He hates having to be protected, eyes always watching. No one can deny that they keep us safe, though." I opened my mouth to add another nagging doubt, but she rose to the occasion before I could. "It's not about 'low-rank', either. Your father had a Princess and yet he proposed to a commoner without hesitation. Besides, if he goes completely bonkers and wants to say no, he'll have to go through me first."

A thought occurred to me, too sudden to stop and think about; the question just sort of fell from my mouth. "What about Ella?"

"What about her?"

What started as a laugh turned into a cough as I realized that Valencia was serious. She had no idea that Ella and Iggy were an item.

"We have much to talk about, my dear Queen."

And so we sat down again, mother and daughter across from each other, sharing secrets around cold cups of coffee. There was no better way.

**I was going to squeeze the rest in, going to squeeze it in. Nope. Too much filler, not enough Fang. But the grand finale should be next… I hope. **

**Until then, read and write on!**

**~Faxisthegreatest123~**


	5. The End

**Happy Thanksgiving (Eve), my dear readers! I'll keep this brief because there's a lot to get through: Welcome to the last chapter of My Star Crossed Knight! Read on and enjoy!**

_This is highly improper Maxine. _To my own surprise, the voice that mentally scolded me was not Valencia or Ella's, though they both would be mortified at my attire. Soft sweatpants are a huge "don't" in the castle, but being a full blooded Princess and heiress to the throne, I could mostly do as I pleased.

The voice didn't belong to my father, either, though he would freak if he knew I was visiting the knight's barracks. Royalty was only permitted down the staircase if there was an emergency, a legal order/decree, or a situation that required the removal of a knight.

In mine and Ella's worlds, there was a yet another option: sneaking around with a handsome pair of armor-clad men.

The words in my head had an English twang to them, an exaggeration of the _im_ before the _proper. _In my life, I had only known one family with that accent: The Ride Family; the same royals that my mother hailed from.

Along with her shrill voice came her image. She was a sight to behold with auburn hair and a crooked smile. Her eyes, the same shade of brown as mine, were said to be captivating. Beneath all of her beauty, though, I could sense the real her. The heartless Queen who could birth two children yet not care if either lived or died.

Before I could stop it, Ari flashed through my mind as well. He looked just like mother, inheriting only the signature Batchelder hair, though even that was a shade darker than usual.

Thinking of my brother made my heart rate speed up, made my body spur into motion. With one swift push I was standing face to face with about a hundred knights, double the startled eyes staring straight at me, some even through me. Trained to be in sync at all times, every voice in the room ceased.

My skin prickled, my face heating with embarrassment. "I request a private audience with Sir Nicholas." Thank heavens I didn't slip and call him Fang! "If everyone else would please relocate, I would very much appreciate it."

It was eerie and beautiful how well each and every knight responded to royal requests, no matter how feeble. They did not hesitate or even cast glances back at Fang.

I lost track of how many bodies brushed past me until one of the mass stood out. There were very few knights my age, and less still with bright orange hair and pale, freckly cheeks.

As Iggy moved to pass by, I stretched my hand out, beckoned him closer. "My sister has been begging for your company upstairs." _Ever since I told her the good news_, I wanted to add. It was a struggle to exclude it.

He nodded, business as usual, though I could see a shift in his eyes. A lightening of the already-clear-blue at the mention of Ella. A little jolt of joy ran through me, knowing what she would tell him. The joy was for myself, as well, considering what news I had to share with Fang.

The knights slowly trickled out, a waterfall of metal clanging past. As the last of the group followed his comrades, I whispered to him softly and politely to close the door as he went. My voice would not allow anything louder; all of my nerve had faded.

Fang played his part of the good solider, standing at attention with his hands behind his back. He did not reach out to me or question me, even as I drifted about the room, my eyes avoiding his. In part, it was hard to look at him, knowing that he had given his life for my sake.

The other part was born of curiosity: I had never been in the Knight's Barracks before. The room was twice the size of mine, hosting hundreds of bunk-beds in a few dozen rows. Toward the back was a bathroom filled with stalls and open shower-heads. The few female knights had it easier in way of privacy; their room was down the hall, the size equal to this one and boasting an eighth of the beds.

Here in the men's sleeping quarters, the smell of sweat and blood prevailed. They were hard workers, all of them. Their living space accounted for it, especially given the rack of metal armor situated in the corner nearest the bathrooms.

Without really meaning to, I wandered over to the protective suits, my hand brushing against the silver pieces. Some were warm and dull, the armor of those recently off-duty. Others were cold and shining new, almost pristine in their coloring.

I stopped at a worn set, the metal dinged and cracked. It was easy to picture Fang in this armor, his efforts at saving me clear in every indentation of the frame. "Is this yours?"

With practiced ease, Fang crept up next to me. To my surprise, he shook his head and moved down the line, pulling a different suit of armor from the rack.

Never would I had singled it out: his was one of the pristine pieces. The silver was a little dulled from use, but nowhere near the tarnished state that I had last seen him in.

"It's, it's new," I stuttered, "It can't be yours."

Fang nodded, looking pained. "I had it replaced."

It took all of my self-control not to wrap around him, pull him close and breathe him in. "What did they do to you?"

I could tell he didn't want to say it aloud. But he didn't want to keep it from me, either. When he finally spoke, his words were strained. "The Erasers tore my old armor apart. Its how they…"

"Please," I drew myself closer to him, tried to keep the water from my eyes. "Will you remove your shirt?"

On any other day, in any other tone, he would have laughed at my forward nature. We were not shy around each other, not after being together for so long. But this was a whole different request. Gone were any romantic intentions or notions. The fabric that covered his chest was also covering my ability to see how deep the scars went.

Unable to deny me, Fang grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled the black material up over his head. Once cleared of the shirt, Fang balled it up, placed it gently on the ground beside him. It was an unusual move for him; a way to buy time before I could see or process the condition of his skin.

And what a terrible condition it was. Small scratches crisscrossed his chest, the worst of them getting longer and harsher as they migrated downward, past his ribs. With each line I could imagine the poison that accompanied it. What pain he had to be in, writhing and eventually _dying _as the chemicals passed through his system.

Seeing him in such disrepair, I couldn't stop myself from flying at him. My hands clasped tightly together behind his back, drawing him as close to my body as possible. Tears drowned my eyes, flowing even faster as my fingers brushed several more scars on his back. Above either index finger, I could feel two parallel scars running up, up, nearly to the top of his shoulders. Though they were not puckered like the other impurities- meaning there was no poison present- the enormity caused my body to shudder.

"They killed you."

He may have tried to deny it, had my tone not been so final, so knowing. "You heard."

It was impossible to squeeze him any tighter; I could feel the muscles in my arms straining. "Hearing you admit it…" a hiccup forced its way between my words, "I can't begin to explain how much pain it causes."

Fang bent his head down so that his chin rested on the part of my hair. The pressure was light, but even so, I could feel the way that his jaw moved as he spoke. "I will never let anyone hurt you."

I sucked in a breath. For just a moment, tears stopped falling. My voice evened out, my resolve reemerging. "I will never be able to thank you enough; I will never be able to throw myself at death's door like you did for me. But the depth of my love runs just as deep. Had my father said no to my request, I would have gladly run away with you. I would have let you name the time, the place, heck, even the planet. I would follow you anywhere, Sir Nicholas White. Just one word, and I would have been yours."

"Would have?" He pulled back, his eyes narrowed in confusion. "What request?"

Lifting my head off of his chest, I allowed myself the sensation of a smile. It would be some time before an actual grin spilled off of my lips, but this was a start. "I asked my father for permission to marry you."

Fang was awestruck; he kept opening and closing his mouth, trying to swallow the importance of my implications. "You asked your father- the King- and he agreed?"

I could only nod.

"Are you shitting me?" To the bemused shake of my head, Fang let out a huge and uncharacteristic whoop. I swear, every soul present in this castle heard it. "FUCK YEAH!"

In just a few nasty words, Fang had elicited both a smile and a laugh from my otherwise somber self. He even went so far as to lift me from the ground, making me squeal as we spun in a fast, hair-flinging circle. "Princess Max- my Max."

As soon as the spinning stopped, the kisses began. His lips touched my face at every possible angle- my hairline, my temples, cheeks, nose, chin- each chaste peck accompanied by his new favorite declaration: "My Max."

After an agonizing wait, he was finally ready to kiss me flush on the lips; at the very last second, I pulled away. The mixture of surprise and elation was priceless against his usual stony features.

"My Knight turned into my very own, very handsome Prince. A nice ascent, wouldn't you say?"

He could not look away from my lips, even as he said, "Hell yeah." Before the final syllable was out of his mouth, his face was against mine, his kiss pulling me even further in over my head.

And let me tell you, I loved every second of it.

~.~.~.~.~.~

I was still asleep when I heard the faintest of whispers. The sounds were jumbled, but I could make out what was supposed to be my name. My only reply was weak, sleepy: "Fang?"

The person pushed against my shoulder. "Princess," they called again. "Princess, get up."

Not Fang then. I reached my fingers out to brush against him. In just three months, I had become accustomed to waking up next to him. We weren't married, not yet, but so long as we "didn't produce an heir prematurely", dad was okay with the arrangement.

Nudge pushed my shoulder again. "You'll miss it, Princess!"

The sheets on Fang's side of the bed were empty. We weren't married, not yet. And I was going to miss it.

_It _being my own wedding.

I hauled ass, jumping out of bed as if the downy comforter were aflame. "What time is it, Nudge? Why didn't you wake me sooner?" As I peppered her with questions, I stood at the wardrobe, the doors open and a blank look across my face. Where was my dress? Still at the tailors?

There was the sound of laughter behind me; Nudge was snickering to herself. Didn't she know how important this day was?

Whirling on her, I prepped myself for the scolding of a lifetime, glare included. To my surprise, however, Fang appeared in the doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest, a bemused smile across his lips. No longer in his pajama bottoms, he was also a far cry from being dressed up. Unless one counts jeans and a t-shirt as proper wedding attire. When marrying royalty, no less.

"Where's your suit?"

Next to him, Nudge doubled over in laughter.

He was staring right at me, his smile dangerously close to showing teeth. "Hanging in the wardrobe. I can go get it, if you want me to look dapper for a birth."

I could have slapped myself right then. It was 4 in the morning; our wedding wasn't scheduled to start until 6 p.m. on the 1st. A date that happened to be _three weeks away_.

"You're both jerks."

At that, Nudge rolled her eyes. "I didn't tell you what you were missing. You jumped to that conclusion on your own."

"Still jerks," I said, breezing past them. I did not, could not, stop to wait for them. This was urgent, after all.

~.~.~.~.~.~

If anyone was taking their sweet time, it was the baby. 14 hours had passed since the initial contractions and still, nothing.

Dad was the only one allowed in the room. The rest of us were forced to wait outside the doors, pleading for something, anything to happen.

We talked for a while. The number of spectators dwindled. We flipped through television channels. More people left. Hours passed, leaving just Iggy, Ella, Fang and I in the waiting area.

Iggy and Ella spent their time whispering quietly to one another. They pulled out a deck of cards and began to play some game I had never heard of. Later they slept, Ella spilling from her chair onto Iggy's chest. When he exhaled, pieces of her hair came alive, dancing around the puff of air.

By this time, I found myself pacing. There was nothing that I could do, nothing that I wanted to do, except move; if I sat too long, thoughts would bombard me. A list of things that I needed to do would appear. Anxieties about my upcoming wedding would flutter in. Pictures of Ari, of my mother in a similar situation. Memories of my last hospital stay, when everything was black and communication was a luxury that I had somehow been-

Fang, who had been reading an old newspaper, came up to me. With one soft touch to my shoulder, he stilled my racing feet and mind. From there he took my hand, steering me to the left until we were standing in front of a television set.

"Relax, Princess. It may be your only chance."

When I didn't reply, didn't move, Fang pulled me gently, seating us both into an uncomfortable, hard chair. Even so, I did as he asked: I relaxed into him, my head in the crook of his neck, our torsos brushing together and our legs intertwined. He busied his hands by rubbing his thumb against my knuckles, busied his lips by placing air-soft kisses on my head, my shoulder, anywhere he could reach. All the while, as he showed these uncharacteristically sweet pieces of affection, I absorbed myself in the television. Remote in hand, I flipped past the channels at mind-numbing speed.

Sleep was trying to claim my attention, but I was persistent to stay awake until the heir was born. The longer that I watched the changing screen, the more that resolve vanished. My clicking slowed, my body growing heavy. On the final press of the button, I let my eyes drift shut. The last image that I held in my mind was Prince Dylan accepting the Canadian Crown.

Just as quickly as I had fallen asleep, I woke back up, my brain startled into action. Prince Dylan? Canadian Crown?

Sure enough, he was there on the television, all smiles as he looked out over his subjects. Across the bottom, the headline flashed: Prince Temporarily Crowned King after Father's Sudden Heart Attack. Condition Listed as "Critical".

My rash movements alerted Fang. He sat up with me, confusion on his face. "Something wrong?"

"No, no." I paused, knowing that I had to go on. Even so, I dreaded saying it. "Prince Dylan, he,"

Fang didn't let me squirm for long. His voice was low, his eyes soft. If I looked closely enough, I could see the caramel flecks that I adored so much. Even further and I could see the sadness that lingered. "You considered choosing him."

I couldn't stand to meet those eyes any longer. "I didn't want to like him. But of all the possibilities, he was the most tolerable." The next part was painful to admit, though I trudged on. No use in keeping secrets. "At the ball, I had joked with him. I was tipsy and I said something about marriage. He looked at me with the sweetest eyes and I just, I knew. He could have been it."

Fang stared at me silently, his eyes searching every inch of my face. Eventually I couldn't take it, whispering, "This changes everything, doesn't it?"

To my surprise he cupped my face, drawing me in for a long, provocative kiss. At the end he pulled back, looking into my eyes with a light that I had missed before. "It changes nothing. You thought you had to choose that day, and you did. You choose me. I will die a happy man knowing that of all of the princes, of all of the alternatives, you found your way back to me."

"I love you." The words barely made their way out before Fang took the breath from my lungs with a kiss even more scandalous than the last. We moved on auto-pilot, driven by an inexplicable desire to be close to one another, closer than we had ever been before.

Hands tugging at his shirt, lips parting in dangerous ways, I swear we would have made our own headlines right then in there…

Until someone coughed loudly behind us. "We have one new Prince; I don't assume we'll have another for many, many years."

My face and Fang's were matching shades of red. It was one thing to be in a very, very public place. It was another thing to be caught kissing- a hair close to more- by my father, the fracking _King._

Luckily, any need for a response was spared by Ella. Having been stirred awake, she bounced up and flung herself at my father. "Did you say Prince? Can we see him?"

Dad nodded. "Follow me. Sir Jeffery can come as well." He turned, glaring at me. Even so, the look was not as harsh as usual. He was elated by the birth of a son. Nothing, not even _this _could mask the joy he held. "Are you two ready to meet him, or do you need a minute?"

Phrased like a question, his statement was really a command.

Seconds later we descended on Valencia. In the middle of the room, she laid on the bed with the new Prince curled up on her chest. The view was so sweet and maternal that I nearly cried.

Ella bounded up to her mother and half-brother, her whole body alight with excitement. "What's his name? What color are his eyes? Can I hold him? Like, right now?"

Valencia laughed before taking a deep breath, preparing to answer all of the questions. "Yes, you may hold him. Be gentle, though. He's a little guy. He hasn't opened his eyes yet, so I don't know. My guess would be brown." As she handed her bundle over to Ella, she looked to Jeb, opening her mouth to say more.

She needed no words; dad jumped right in. "We introduce to you, our daughters and future sons, the newest Batchelder Prince: Micah Ari."

He was perfect, with an honorary name to match. Sure, he'd keep us up all night, crying into the wee morning hours. He'd produce disgusting things in his diaper and later he'd make messes of all sorts, spreading his mischief all around the palace.

He would have to be told about his namesake, about how life can be short, and it can be terrible. But he'd also learn how great life can be. He's a Prince, after all.

More than that, he'd get to witness love at every turn. The way that his parents gazed at one another would inspire him to look at someone with that same level of adoration. The way that Iggy and Ella perpetually flirted would show him that love doesn't have to be boring. And, hopefully, Fang and I could teach him that Love is Always a Choice.

The very best one you can make.

**Hopefully it didn't sound rushed- in all actuality, I started this chapter many months ago, but the endings happened to come to mind more recently. Please, please, tell me what you think! **

**Thank you all for your continued support! Thank you for sticking with me as I upped, and upped, and upped the chapter count. You guys are one reason of many to be thankful.**

**Have a happy holiday, my dear readers! And, as always, read and write on!**

**~Faxisthegreatest123~**


End file.
